


Love Can Move Mountains

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-11-01
Updated: 2003-11-01
Packaged: 2020-07-08 09:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19867597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: K&S reflect on their long life together. And I mess with canon. Oh, just tack it on to the larger lawsuit. I finally got badly bitten by the Slash Muse. I held out as long as I could. But was watching TNG...and this happened. My first slash story ever.





	Love Can Move Mountains

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).
> 
> Author's Note (originally footnoted from the title):  
> 1Yes, I was thinking of songs. As always. I think Celine Dion's version is best. Yes, I am a corny old queen.

Picard:

"Do you know what business they might have together?"

Sarek:

" _No!_ No, I never knew what Spock was doing. When he was a boy, he would disappear for days into the mountains. I would ask him where he had gone, what he had done...he refused to tell me. I _insisted_ that he tell me. He would not. I forbade him to go, he ignored me. I punished him, he endured it. Silently...but always he would turn to the mountains, when night arrived."

~ST:TNG -- _"Unification I"_

*******

They were standing on the balcony of their house in San Francisco. Simply watching the City. Then they let their eyes travel past it to the Bay and the Bridge, the fog and the mountains. Faint City sounds and fainter natural ones drifted up and over to their ears. They saw more than heard the seagulls, winging inland to nest for the night. Soon enough, the sun started to set. Soon after, they turned to watch each other's faces. Somehow they never tired of this, nor felt that they ever could. And after all, even more so than the panorama below, it was an ever changing view. Both sights, the vista and the visage, seemed to them to increase in interest and beauty, each time they looked.

They shared this thought now, on the level of an emotion, as the light left. Their Bond flared slightly, then dimmed again. Like adding kindling to a quiet fire. Jim looked up at Spock and smiled. Spock tilted his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. Jim smiled.

//Well, Spock, there it is. I was right.//

//{slight puzzlement}//

//You are more beautiful to me now...than you ever were.//

//The thought is still highly illogical, my _t'hy'la_. Yet, I cannot fault the belief. It seems the same to me.//

They moved, in silent accord, to the side of the balcony, where Jim had insisted on installing the old porch swing from his sometime home in Iowa. Of course, 'insisted' was Spock's word. Jim knew that in this, as in many things in their married life, Spock wanted the same thing he did. He just wanted some convincing, as well. Even some arguing. It was a sort of dance that they did. And, usually, enjoyed. You could say, Jim reflected, that they appreciated both the steps involved, and the dip at the end. His smiled broadened. Spock sat, gracefully, in the exact center of the swing. Without having to look, Jim lowered himself into his husband's lap. He folded his arms across his stomach, tucking his hands under his elbows, then snuggled a little. Spock waited for him to settle, then wrapped his arms around the Human's, over his middle.

The last of the light from the sunset fell across the two lovers, then passed away across the balcony. Briefly, it picked out the lined faces and silvering hair of the two men like a portrait, before continuing on its way to play with the windows of the old houses on the steep street. Tonight they sat as if for a casual but elegant painting. Jim wore his oldest jeans, and an ivory cableknit sweater that had been a once been a handmade Christmas present from Amanda. Spock wore black corduroy trousers, and his charcoal grey cashmere sweater over a silk turtleneck. Jim curled against him gratefully. Much as he still loved the outdoors, the cold and damp of San Francisco were a bit much for him now, especially at night.

Jim spent a moment appreciating how good Spock had looked all evening, and another on how good he felt right now. He strongly suspected that Spock wore such soft and supple fabrics not only for their warmth and other comforts, but also because he knew that Jim enjoyed touching him in them. Not to mention touching him until he was out of them. Jim had not yet voiced this suspicion. And he would not do so tonight. He had certainly proven the worth of acting on his suspicion, many times. It was not out of the question that he would do so once again, before the night was out. For now, he just snuggled into Spock's chest, enjoying both the soft surface and the hardness beneath. Both men sighed in contentment. The swing creaked softly as if in agreement. After a few minutes, Spock spoke.

"Did I ever tell you, Jim, about my childhood on Vulcan?"

Jim blinked a few times, in mild surprise. Spock still had the power to surprise him. And exercised it, on at least a daily basis. And, usually pleasantly. "Ah...you did, but...not much."

His tone provoked a dramatic eyebrow raise. Jim felt it took all of his diplomatic training not to laugh. He figured it took all of Spock's not to notice.

"Don't get me wrong, Spock...from the beginning, you've shared more of yourself and your life with me than...well, than I had any right to expect. And since our Bonding...your willingness to share has...humbled me."

Spock rubbed Jim's arms, slowly. It was a gesture of comfort and encouragement, as well as affection. Jim settled himself again, and continued.

"Still...your childhood has remained pretty much a mystery. A man's...entitled to that, of course. It's always hard to explain one's childhood, isn't it? God knows I haven't found it easy. And I've always appreciated your...patience, with me. Your understanding." He paused. "We love each other, and we're married. We want to know each other...as well as we can. So I have to admit...I'm still curious about you. I like that, the mystery, but...I also like solving it. You know how Humans are." Jim turned just enough for his husband to see the side of his smile. He rocked a little in Spock's arms, playfully. "So go ahead...tell me about yourself...your 'early years'."

And Spock began to speak. Eloquently, as always. But also with emotion, which was still almost always reserved for Jim's ears. He spoke of his early years, or what he called his 'formative' ones. Of his growing alienation--so to speak--from his father and the rest of his family. Of his mother's attempts to assist him. Of his frequent forays into the mountains, and Sarek's increasing frustration. Of his search, in the mountains and within himself, for meaning and identity. Of his need for privacy, though he knew it created mystery. Of how both men never forgot this time in their lives, but never spoke of it after he left home. Of how he came to realize he could never solve the mystery that was himself and his life on his home world, though he could never truly leave it behind. He described the Vulcan landscape in such detail that Jim could see it clearly in his mind's eye, though he had not set foot on the desert planet in several years. He spoke of the people with such passion that Jim could picture them all, even those who had been dead for decades.

When Spock finished speaking, the silence stretched until Jim sighed, and moved to place his hands over his husband's.

"Thank you, Spock, so much. Thank you for...sharing. Another piece of you is revealed. More of you to understand...and more to love. But don't worry...you're still mysterious."

Spock leaned forward and kissed Jim's hair, and the Human could feel his smile. Jim thought for a bit.

"Hmm. It reminds me of something, Spock...something...Biblical, I think. Sorry...it's been a long time since Sunday school. Hmm...mountains...I know. Moses on the mountain. By the time the Israelites were ready to enter the Promised Land, Moses had fallen out of favor with God. God took him to the top of Mount...something. Oh, I really don't remember. But God took Moses there to let him see the Promised Land...even though He reminds him he'll never enter it. And he dies...right there, and God buries him, Himself...where no one will ever find him." Jim paused. It was a very sad story, really, when you thought about it. He snuggled a little deeper, and frowned at the darkness. Spock echoed his thoughts.

"That is quite a sad story, James. Though am not sure I understand it. And I would like to. The interpretations must be very interesting."

"Now that...I don't remember at all. Sorry, Spock...as I said, a long time since school. I know, I know...we should look it up." Jim yawned, widely. "Maybe tomorrow."

Jim thought a bit more, and his train of thought became pretty amusing. At least, to him. He recognized then that he was starting to get sleepy. He always got a little silly when he was sleepy. But he spoke anyway.

"You know...there's someone who really reminded me of Moses. Your father. Actually, he always reminded me, a little too much...of that other patriarch. You remember...I showed you my holovid version of The Ten Commandments...[2] Oh, I can so see him as a Pharaoh. Can't you? _'So let it be written, so let it be done!'_ " Jim tried to stop his snickering, but it was too late.

There was a pause. Not exactly awkward, but reminiscent of the couple's own early and formative years. It was punctuated by a sniff from Spock that could only be described as offended. Jim sighed, and sent his contrition through the Bond. He felt it accepted, if a bit grudgingly.

"Sorry, Spock. You know that I...respected your father. Professionally, and personally. He was a great Ambassador. One of the greatest. And...not a _bad_ father in law. It's just that..."

"James. May I remind you that we have had this conversation before. Several times. Amusing, and even intriguing, as it is... I believe the Terran expression is: 'drop it'."

Jim dropped it. After a last snicker and shake of the head. He knew that Spock loved and missed his father. And, truth be told, Jim could say the same of Sarek. Strange but true. Sarek had never grown close to either man, his son or his son in law. Certainly it was nothing like the closeness they both shared with Amanda, until her earlier death. But, in the end, maybe it was only to be expected. Vulcans were Vulcans, and humans were humans. _And never the twain shall meet?_ [3] Jim thought, rather ruefully. And when the twain existed in the body of one man...that was the hardest meeting of all. _And the most wonderful._ Jim leaned back, relaxing fully against Spock, and spoke.

"Spock?"

"Yes."

"You know how I really feel, about Sarek."

"Of course."

"And you know how glad I am...that he was able to let you know his feelings. Before he passed."

"Yes. But I thank you for reminding me. His words, and yours, mean a great deal to me. His, of course, are quite precious--since they were few, and have proven to be finite. Though I regret that he was unable to speak with me in person. Still, it was well that he communicated his thoughts through Captain Picard."

"Mmm. I understand."

"I know. And that is why I love you."

Jim just sighed. He felt a great wave of contentment wash over him. A sensation that he had once, though it was now long ago, thought impossible. It still tended to surprise him, every time he felt it. And what a pleasant surprise. He roused himself eventually, and spoke softly.

"Your experience...in childhood...it reminds me of something else. The Native peoples of Earth. Especially those that have always lived near here. Their youth are required to undertake a 'vision quest', in order to...find themselves, and their destinies. They travel into the mountains, alone..."

"I am familiar with this aspect of Terran culture, _t'hy'la_. And your point is well taken. But, Jim...although I attempted to find my identity, and my future, in my native mountains, and met with some success...I never experienced a vision there. Indeed, I saw nothing out of the ordinary."

Jim nodded, slowly and sagely. "Makes sense to me. After all...if you'd stayed on Vulcan your whole life...you might never've found what you were looking for. Not in love, anyway."

Spock's lips quirked upwards. "It is difficult to argue with that statement. It would seem, in light of past and present events, that I could only find what I was looking for--in love--aboard the Enterprise."

"So it would seem," agreed Jim, not managing to suppress a chuckle. Which turned quite wicked as he added, "It would also seem...that you could only find lust aboard that ship. Another important part of one's destiny...in my humble opinion. And it was, apparently, only to be found in the location of your Captain's cabin. Of course, I was only too happy to help you look...and find..."

Spock's arms tightened around him, and Jim knew his husband's shiver had nothing to do with the growing cold. They sat like that for a few minutes. Just experiencing their love, with a touch of lust. Then Spock spoke, and his tone had turned serious.

"James?"

"Yes, Spock?"

"I am very glad that I crossed those mountains, so long ago. And found my destiny. And my love, in you."

"Oh, Spock...so am I. So am I."

There was a pause, which was soon filled with a companionable silence. Finally, Kirk spoke. Spock moved slightly, so that he could see Jim's profile. Dark as it was, Spock's Vulcan eyes could still make out his lover's face. But he heard the grin in Jim's voice.

"Well... You know what they say, Mister Spock. 'Love can move mountains.'"

Spock turned his husband in his lap, just enough to regard him face to face. There was something that still touched him so deeply, about the use of that old prefix. Especially when Jim used it, and in combination with that young smile. Spock tried not to smile himself. And almost succeeded. He could still succeed at hiding his emotions from Jim. Even after all this time. Yet he found that he rarely wanted to. _All this time_...he reflected. All this time, together. Now he did smile. Such a long time. A lifetime. _It was the best of times, it was the worst of times_ [4], he thought. And yet they had endured, together. While so much else, and so many others, had not. Had passed away into history. So many other lives ended. And so much else lost. His smile started to fade, and he looked away.

//Spock? I can't...read your thoughts, right now. But I can still feel the emotions. What makes you sad?//

Spock's gaze returned to his beloved's face, and with it his smile. He felt that he could continue looking at Jim, with or without words, for the remainder of the evening. But not, at their respective ages and biologies, outdoors. It was high time they retired inside. Perhaps he could persuade Jim to light a fire. He laughed inwardly, as he reflected on what Jim would make of that request, especially phrased in such a way. Spock rose gracefully, bringing Jim with him, and turned his husband to face him.

//I am thinking, with joy, of our long life together. And, with sorrow, of all that is dead and gone.//

Now it was Jim's turn to smile, albeit bittersweetly. "Oh, Spock... I know. I know, love." He reached up and touched the Vulcan's cheek, very gently. "But, Spock...?"

"Yes, Jim?"

"It's also said...'anything we love can be saved.' [5] As long as we remember...our loved ones, their lives and times...they live. They exist. And they've made us...what we are. Who we are. Together. The best way for us to honor them is to live...fully, and happily. Then that will be our legacy, to the people and places we leave behind." He paused. "Just as your home made you who you are--the man I love--and the mountains brought you to me. That's why you return there, year after year. And why I go with you."

Spock considered this. Again, he could fault the logic of the words, but not the truth of them. Jim's ability to move people with the power of his words was one of the first things that had drawn Spock to him. It had still taken him a long time, almost too long, to realize how much it meant to him to have that power brought to bear on himself. His Jim, Spock thought with pride and affection, always seemed to know what to say. He opened his arms, and reopened his heart.

They moved into an embrace that felt as old as time, and as new as love. They didn't need their Bond to guide them. Jim tilted his face up, and Spock bent towards him. Their lips met in a burning, cooling kiss. Jim thought of the bright Vulcan desert, lonely home to his future mate, all those years ago. Spock thought of the long dark nights, waiting for this future, that he could not know.

And then they ceased to think, for the time being. They turned their faces away from the mountains, and towards their home. Hands, hearts, and minds linked, they passed through the French doors and into the house.

*******

Picard:

"Sarek, we are a part of each other. I know that he has caused you pain.

But I also know...that you love him."

Sarek:

"Tell him, Picard."

~~~~~~~

Picard:

"Peace, and long life."

Sarek:

"Live long and... and... Live long and... Spock! My son!"

Picard:

"And prosper."

 _~_ ST:TNG -- _"Unification I"_

**Mycroft Holmes**

Av 5763 / August 2003

**Author's Note:**

> 2 My mother watched this WAY too often. At least every Easter.[return to text]  
> 3 Rudyard Kipling, The Ballad of East and West; 'Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.'[return to text]  
> 4 Charles Dickens, my first favorite writers.[return to text]  
> 5 Alice Walker, the title of her book on activism.[return to text]


End file.
